Let’s make a list of things I don’t know. These things are all causing me to have what I’m sure will resemble a month-long nervous breakdown.
1: I don’t know where we’ll be living after June 17. We have no word on the house we want. Nothing. The lovely Eleanor (and I KNOW you’re reading this) tells me “not to worry, Love” (Actually, she didn’t, but that’s how I’d like it to sound). Things are different down yonder.
(As an aside, I think it would be fun to post this one without spell checking. It would be fun, but I like you people so I won’t. I smell a real mess coming)
1a: I don’t know if we have enough time to pull off another deal if that one goes to shit. We have under 3 weeks to go. This is officially not cool. ***It’s later now. The aforementioned Eleanor has told me that a deal can go through in 3 days down there. I’ll believe that when I see it.***
2: We don’t know if our buyers will take the house. They want a new roof, repairs to the wood siding and repairs to the front steps (by the way, it took me 7 tries to spell steps correctly right there. I’m not even hungover, just antsy). Oh yea, they also want the chimney repaired. My response: Fuck you. Take it or fuck off. And since the lady is about to have a baby, I don’t know what choices they have. We came down $9000 from the initial listing to sell this place. Fix it yourself. However, if we knew if we were getting the house in Raleigh, we’d know how much money we have left over and what we could do on this one to make the deal happen more smooth-like.
3: I don’t know if HealthcareRelated Company is keeping me or not. Apparently, there are meetings this week to discuss it. I told my boss that my last day is next Friday unless they come up with something and there’s barely any time between now and then. I really don’t care either way, but it would be nicer to have some income for a while. It will make the bills associated with living in a hotel because we don’t have a house to move into all that much easier to bear.
(since the last typo reference, I’ve had like 20, including 1 in this sentence)
4: I don’t know how on Earth we’re going to pack our house. I know this isn’t that bad…it just needs to be done, but there’s a lot of work and I didn’t do enough this weekend. I have to go through my books tonight. I have a lot of books and will categorize them into: Those I MUST have for the next 9 months, and those that I could live without. On the first list, one could find: any book written by Mr. Buffett, some Tom Clancys, some Steven Kings, and some other must haves. (4 typos in that sentence alone) From there, I’ll move throughout the house. The problem is that JewelrySlut wants to throw out the house and start anew. She’s ready to pitch everything. As a result, I have to find a garbage hauler person to cart away our mess. I wish we could just get a dumpster and throw away as we like.
5: This isn’t technically something I don’t know, but I’ll add it: I have no confidence in any of this going well. I just spoke to the realtor and she’s telling me to get a roofer to the house to see what’s up. This contradicts what she had previously said about us not needing to worry about the roof. So, she’s an asshole, the other realtor is an asshole, the buyers’ attorney sucks, and ours is never around. Oh yea…things are doing very well right about now. I think if you put a blood pressure cuff on me today it would explode.
On to other things. I like it when people write letters to other people or things. Like this:
To: Everyone I work with
Re: Going and fucking yourselves
Dear Everyone who works here,
Did you happen to notice that I greeted you with a “Cheerio guvvnah” this morning? Do I have brown, crooked teeth? Was I carrying chips wrapped in the Daily Mirror?
I didn’t fucking think so.
Wanna know why?
It’s because we don’t fucking live in England or in any other country where they drive on the left side of the fucking road. So, as a courtesy to those of us who understand this, walk your fat fucking ass down the right, and when I say right, I mean “correct” as well as “right” side of the fucking hallway. I am more than tired of turning corners and walking into one of your fat asses as you carry your feedbag back from the cafeteria. I’ve really had it, folks. I’m under a lot of stress and am no mood to bump into one of your planetary-sized bodies when I’m trying to get to the bathroom to take a piss.
To: The fucking fucks who work to my left
Re: Me not giving a fuck about you
Dear fat assholes,
First off, maybe you wouldn’t need to be on those infamous diets you’re always talking about if you, for just 1 fucking minute, stopped eating. I mean, it’s like listening to cattle chew their cud all day. I’m tired of it.
I also don’t five a fuck who won American Idol and how you all couldn’t decide who to vote for and it kept you up all night as you worried about whether or not having not voted would have an impact on the show. I don’t fucking care.
Popping bubblewrap is not cool. I swear to fucking Christ, it’s not cool.
Waddling up and down the cubicle corridors is also not cool. It’s not cool because you’re all so fucking fat that you don’t fit between the cubes. Sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up. Don’t you all think that when you can’t fit between the cubes that maybe it’s time to lose a few pounds? Do you all cry when you look in the mirror? I mean, it’s not cool to carry 300+ pounds on a barely 5 foot tall frame. Not cool at all.
It’s also not cool when all 8 of you are on the same conference call at the same time. Go get a fucking conference room and have the meeting there. There is absolutely no need whatsoever to force me to listen to all 8 of you in fucking speakerphone stereo.
So, get this all done today so you can be alive for the next 2 weeks while I wind down my time here.
To: The fatties in the lunchroom
Re: The microwaves
The buckets of food that you consume will not heat up faster if you stare at the microwave. You’re not shooting out any extra boosting microwaves. You’re just blocking the napkin dispensers. And when I come by to get some of said napkins, AND I say “excuse me”, it’s really best to move a little bit and not to give me that Head-Wagging “Uh-huh you did not just say THAT” look that you’re all so find of doing. I’m not trying to “repress you” (Please, when reading, do the quotation fingers and add extra emphasis and whiteness to that statement) or “keep you down” because I am the “man”. I just want a fucking napkin.
See, it’s just that easy. I feel a little better now, but not much. Most of all, I want to kill someone or get a straight answer about anything.
Until then, I’ll sit here and clench my ass cheeks. I’m doing that not because I like how it feels but because I may shit myself. I ate too much meat last night. I grilled up a bunch of kielbasa, smoked sausage (almost the same thing but not quite), some garlic chicken sausage and some marinated chicken breasts. I have to make a meat shit and am afraid of it. Plus, I just ate 2 slices of Friday’s pizza, a pear and an apple (see…that’s how I maintain my girlish figure) for lunch. Throw in stress and I may shit myself. I want to hold it until 4:00 is I can because then the bathrooms empty out and nobody needs to be around when my ass decides to explode.
Boy, I’d bet you wish you could have that last minute of your life back.
**PS…I usually think up a header for the posting after I paste in the text. That one is a beauty if I may say so.